


empty no more.

by jellyjamjelly



Series: sheithweek 2k16 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Loneliness, M/M, sheithweek, sheithweek 2k16, together/alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8361325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyjamjelly/pseuds/jellyjamjelly
Summary: Keith never understood how to quell his loneliness, until he meets Shiro.





	

**Author's Note:**

> sheithweek 2k16 - day 2: together/alone

“Shit!” Shiro cries out, the ecstasy palpable in his voice. He lets out a low whine as Keith rides his orgasm out, pleasure evident on his face, although far more composed than Shiro who has been reduced to a flushed, panting wreck underneath Keith. The dark-haired man slides off Shiro’s hips easily and helps roll the condom off Shiro’s now-flaccid cock. Shiro doesn’t (read, can’t) move.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” Shiro murmurs, voice raspy with lust, from shouting sweet nothings all night long.

Keith agrees, as he ties up the condom and tosses it into the trash can with practiced accuracy. A result of too many nights in hotel rooms with too many different men, too many condoms in too many trash cans.

“That was one amazing fuck,” he responds, tongue playing with the words, lips tugged just slightly into a smirk. He flops down onto the linen sheets next to Shiro.

Keith watches Shiro wipe himself down with a tissue and try to throw it into the same trash can, but the scrunched up paper simply sways gently in the air, floating wistfully away from its intended destination. Keith chuckles, low under his breath. Shiro is adorable, beautiful, breathtaking, and way, _way_ too out of his league, from the tuft of white hair that falls just above his eyebrows, to every scar harbouring their individual secrets, to the tanned over-sensitive skin, the deep, soothing voice, the strong, muscular arms, the firm, yet gentle hands. All of him makes Keith's little walled-up heart stutter. Shiro, just by being Shiro, somehow manages to disassemble every brick Keith builds around his stupid fragile heart.

Too bad he’s just one fuck out of many.

Cursing, Shiro swings his legs off the bed, plucking the soiled tissue off the floor and relocating it into its rightful place. He grabs the boxers that were thrown hastily onto the back of an armchair in the heat of the night and pulls them on, wriggles into his jeans somewhere on the other side of the room, and then looks around for his shirt. Keith almost doesn’t want to tell Shiro that he’s actually lying on it. He wants Shiro to stay a little longer, even if it is just to watch him look for a fucking shirt.

But Keith can’t do that.

This was meant to be a simple text-to-sex, no romantic feelings, no strings attached. But these past weeks, wandering, taking a different man by the hand (and more) every night, threatens to crush him. Keith has never felt so alone. When he’s not at the university, studying to distract himself, or when he’s not with a man too busy being fucked, he doesn’t know what to feel, what to think about the weird sensation of emptiness, an ache that spreads into his limbs and seeps deep, deep, deep into his bones.

(And it hurts so much.)

Keith pulls the shirt from underneath him and throws it at Shiro’s head. The broad man whirls around as the shirt floats down onto his head and covers his eyes. Keith can see the confused frown that plays around Shiro’s lips, just below the hem of the shirt tickling his nose, and Keith laughs. Laughs at the sight of Shiro with a fucking shirt over his head, chest bare and still covered in a thin sheen of after-sex sweat. Shiro gives Keith a Look, shakes his head slightly, but his lips are turned up at the corners with amusement.

He tugs the recovered shirt over his naked torso, grabs his wallet, phone and keys, and turns to leave, and suddenly Keith is _panicking_. He doesn’t _want_ Shiro to leave. Fuck. He should never even have agreed to meet Shiro if he knew it would end like this. With this kind of pain, this brand of loneliness.

Keith scrambles to the edge of the bed, and reaches his arm out far enough to grab Shiro’s wrist, stopping the older man from taking a step further.

“Stay.”

Shiro quirks an eyebrow, lips moving to form a little o.

“You want more?”

Keith rolls his eyes.

“No. We don’t have any more condoms. And I’m spent. Just,” Keith pats the sheets next to him, “stay here with me.”

Shiro turns to him, giving Keith full view of his broad shoulders stretched into the seams of his shirt, the biceps flexing under the sleeves.

“I thought this was supposed to be sex with no strings attached?”

“Please.”

Keith doesn’t even know when he has become so desperate that he resorts to pleading, but it seems to work. Shiro takes two steps back towards the bed and sits on the edge, dipping the mattress with his weight and toeing off the shoes he had just put on a moment ago.

“Alright.”

Keith leans closer.

“If the prince insists.”

**Author's Note:**

> what even is school. what are midterms even.
> 
> i've also never written smut before, so here i present to you the avoidance of writing sexy scenes. 
> 
> yell at me about sheith and voltron on [tumblr](https://jellyjamjelly.tumblr.com/ask) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/satokairin).


End file.
